


Ashes

by gentledusk, littleliontree (gentledusk)



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 19:49:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13597116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentledusk/pseuds/gentledusk, https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentledusk/pseuds/littleliontree
Summary: At what point could he have stopped this?





	Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> *walks in with sbux* a wild perfworld muse rises from the grave! This was actually written last July, so...here it is.
> 
> Fair warning, I have no idea if I'll finish this.

“Lysandre has rather...strong opinions, does he not?”

Augustine laughs. Around them, street lights start to flicker on, the gentle breeze and low murmur of passerby forming the soothing lull of a typical evening in Lumiose. “He’s a very passionate man! I have no doubt he’ll make many changes in the world, don’t you agree?”

Diantha gives him a sharp look, but says nothing. Above them, an ad for Lysandre Labs and its famed Holo Caster begins to play. The object in question, sleek and gleaming, appears on the big screen. Beside it is Lysandre’s face, wearing a picture-perfect smile, not one hair out of place. _Embrace the future!_ the ad proclaims.

Lumiose is too bright to ever see stars clearly, but Augustine likes to look up at the night sky and pretend he can see them twinkling anyway. He thinks of Lysandre’s ambitions, burning brightly, and wonders what kinds of things to expect from a future shaped by those hands.

~

He’d meant what he’d told Serena that time at Café Soleil--Lysandre really is like a blazing flame. He’s innovative, charismatic, and intensely focused on his goals. He runs a lab, a café, a shelter for those with nowhere to go. He even offers Augustine a position at his lab, though Augustine has to respectfully decline. He is captivated by the man and his work, and the promise of steady funding and resources _is_ appealing, but Professor of Kalos is a position he’d worked damned hard to get. He may not be someone great like Lysandre, but it’s the one thing he’s managed to grab with both hands and cling to in his life, and he’ll be damned if he’s going to let all his hard work go. Even if it is for the sake of a visionary.

Lysandre looks disappointed, and though Augustine regrets being the cause of that expression, he’s also kind of happy that Lysandre had wanted him to join enough to express disappointment at his refusal. Augustine laughs it off, saying that this doesn’t mean they can’t collaborate from time to time, no? And also, would Lysandre mind waving someone over to bring him some food? He’s just remembered he hasn’t eaten since yesterday.

Lysandre sighs and gets up himself, disappearing into the back of his café and reappearing shortly after with coffee and a plate of food in hand. He sets them both down on the table and takes a seat in front of Augustine again, watching as Augustine downs the croissant (warm, fresh), the slices of fruit (cool, juicy), and the coffee (entirely too sweet, just the way he likes it) in record-breaking speed. Augustine thanks him profusely, causing Lysandre’s previously impassive expression to morph into a small, but genuine smile as he declares that the meal is on the house.

Augustine protests, of course, but Lysandre is stubborn and Augustine was never one for arguing, anyway. Defeated, he slumps in his chair and asks Lysandre to tell him about his latest projects instead. Lysandre obliges, captivating Augustine with his detailed explanations and animated gestures as always.

~

Looking back on it now, he can’t pinpoint a single moment where it had all begun to go wrong. Maybe it’d been that time in Café Soleil, where Lysandre had expressed his ideals to Diantha and Serena. Maybe it was that time when they’d been discussing the old myths of Kalos over coffee late at night, holed up in Augustine’s lab with Lysandre’s eyes shining with enthusiasm. Maybe it’d already started before the first time they’d met, before Augustine had become enraptured by a man with flame-coloured hair and sky blue eyes and ideals burning bright like the sun. Before his friend--the man who likes his coffee black and spoils his Pokémon and drapes his jacket over Augustine when he’d cold--before that friend had begun his descent into this distant, unfamiliar place he’s in now. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Maybe he could’ve stopped this, nipped whatever this is in the bud before it’d bloomed into a flower of destruction. Maybe he still can. Maybe he couldn’t have done anything at all.

“Lysandre,” he says, the name scraping its way out of his parched throat.

Lysandre stops, turns, raises a single eyebrow at him. The lab is dim and empty around them now, and even the softest words echo in its space.

Augustine raises an arm, reaching out, then lets his hand fall. He swallows, steeling himself as best he can before looking Lysandre in the eye. It feels like he’s being burned beneath that gaze. “You asked me once if I would join you.”

Lysandre inclines his head. “And have you reconsidered?” he asks. The straight line of his mouth gives nothing away.

“I have,” says Augustine. For a moment, Lysandre’s eyes flicker, and it disgusts him how much his own voice trembles. “Unfortunately, my answer is still no. But we can still work together, like I said before. We can still strive towards new discoveries, together.”

The tiniest of frowns mars Lysandre’s perfect, beautiful face. “I see. It seems you’ve put a lot of thought into this. You will not reconsider?”

“I will not.”

Lysandre sighs, shaking his head like he’s critiquing Augustine’s eating habits again. It feels like a death knell. “You would’ve made a good Team Flare member, my friend. With the resources at our disposal, we could do a lot of good for the world with your help.”

Augustine swallows, squares his shoulders, and clenches his fists. He thinks his entire body is shaking. “We could,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “Even people from different walks of life can find common ground to work together and create amazing things. Each person has their own way of looking at things, just like you and me. I won’t join your team, no, but...I’d still love to work with you.”

Lysandre is silent for a few long moments after that, crossing his arms and regarding Augustine like a particularly interesting specimen. “...I see,” he says, eventually. He turns to leave.

“Wait!” Augustine cries out, lurching forward before his brain can catch up with his body. He grabs Lysandre by the arm, and when Lysandre stops and turns to face him Augustine reaches up and pulls Lysandre down into a kiss.

It’s a terrible kiss. Lysandre is as still as a statue, lips slack and unresponsive beneath his own. He tastes like bitter coffee and cigarette ashes, and beyond the slight widening of his eyes he may as well be carved from marble for all the reaction he shows when Augustine jerks away.

“Augustine,” Lysandre starts, but the beep of his Holo Caster cuts off both his words and whatever gentleness might have resulted from the uncertain line of his mouth, the hesitant blink of his eyes. He pulls out the device, frowns at the screen, and slips it back into his pocket. “It appears that I am late. I apologize, but I must ask that you excuse me. Perhaps we may continue this another time.”

“Go, then,” he rasps, not even bothering to call out Lysandre’s obvious lie. He watches the retreating back until it vanishes out the door. The instant he is gone, Augustine whips out his phone--yes, his phone, not his Holo Caster--and raises it to his ear, trying his best to keep the unshed tears in his eyes from leaking into his voice.

“My Lights,” he says. His hands are shaking so hard he almost drops his phone. “It’s time.”

His assistants, mercifully, agree to his instructions without question, though Dexio does express concern for his health. He waves it off with a laugh that sounds false even to his own ears and sends them on their way, though not before Sina orders him to get some rest.

Rest. As if he has time for that. As if any of them have any time left at all.


End file.
